October 20, 2004

Globalization and the Great Satan

Globalization and the Great Satan

When heading to our local bookseller, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” are usually bombarded with sundry silly books on the topic of globalization. Many of these tomes, dear reader, attempt to blame these here United States of America for all the rancid pop culture that sullies the world.

To be sure, we the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” hate lowbrow fare as much as we hate some of the finer things in life—like NASCAR. So we certainly understand why the inhabitants of, say, Greenland, are irked that their native Greenlandish music is no longer broadcast on its radio stations, as Billy Joel has taken its place. That would really suck—especially if you inhabit a lifeless frozen tundra with a population of twelve. Talk about a downer.

But we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” feel as if America is almost always getting a bum rap. After all, the citizens of Greenland could have gloried in the orchestral magnificence of Aaron Copland; instead, they chose Michael Jackson. Their loss.

Americans, that is to say, didn’t force the world to dress in the prostitute-esque fashion favored by this country’s youth. No one pointed a gun to their heads and shouted “Put this thong on or I’ll blow your brains out.”

Yet there is another reason to exonerate the United States for its role in the mass production and export of feculent pop culture: America is not the only purveyor of such putrid trash.

We know what our European readers are thinking: We come from cosmopolitan cultures with a great respect for the arts. To which we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” respond: Yeah, we totally agree, if by “a great respect for the arts” you mean “horrendous hygiene.”

As far as we are concerned, Europe hardly seems better than America in the wretched pop drivel department. Don’t believe us? Let us attempt to sway you by way of an example.

When strolling through the World-Wide Web recently, one of our senior editors—let’s just call him “Chip”—stumbled upon the “website” of Phil Collins. You remember Phil Collins, dear reader: He’s the bald-headed twit who penned a cornucopia of inscrutably wretched “soft rock” tunes. We’d name a few of them, but just offering the titles may get the songs into your head, dear reader, and that would amount to what the Constitution considers cruel and unusual punishment.

What was “Chip” doing perusing Phil Collins’ “website” in the first place, you ask? Why, he was hoping to find Starship’s “website,” of course.

But we digress. On said “website,” “Chip” noticed that Phil Collins, the diminutive British chucklehead, has inspired six tribute bands. Yes, that’s right dear reader: Some folks are so desperate to hear “Another Day in Paradise” that they’ll actually pay their hard-earned money to see a diminutive chucklehead who isn’t Phil Collins perform the song.

How, you may be asking yourselves, does this prove our (admittedly meandering) point? Well, Mr. Collins’ “website” has blithely listed the countries of origin of these noxious tribute bands:

“Face Value” is based in the United Kingdom
“In the Air Tonight” is based in Canada
“Invisible Touch” is based in Germany
“Phil” (there’s a real clever name!) is based in Germany
“No Jacket Required” is based in the United Kingdom
“Still Collins” is based in Germany

So, dear reader, Phil Collins, the pathetic limey crooner, has spawned numerous feculent epigones—none of which hail from the United States. So, the next time some snooty Canadian (if you’ll pardon the redundancy) waxes indignant about the state of American pop culture, just tell him to check out his countrymen’s local Phil Collins cover band. That ought to shut him up faster than you can say “Sssudio.”

Posted at October 20, 2004 12:01 AM | TrackBack